


When I Wake Up

by CaptainErica



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate universe AU, M/M, hahahaha, i need to stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiyong's stuck in a reality that he thought would be great, but it isn't. It's awful, and he wants to go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Wake Up

There were any number of reasons how or why this could have happened: he’d taken a left, instead of a right/he’d crashed after too much caffeine/he’d fallen in front of a bus/he’d slipped into a coma on the treadmill. Jiyong had gone through all of them, with varying degrees of depth and seriousness, over the last month, and no matter what possibility occurred to him, one thing remained glaringly obvious: he wanted to go back.

 

He wanted to go back with so much certainty and clarity that he slept even less than he ever had before. He wanted to go back  _ so badly _ that he considered trying to recreate half of the insane ideas he’d come up with for how he’d gotten here in the first place.  _ He wanted to go back so badly that it hurt. _

 

It hurt  _ anyway _ though, because everything about this whole place is  _ wrong _ and he  _ just wants to go home _ .

 

“Jiyong.” Youngbae’s voice cuts through the fog of pain and almost makes him feel better for a moment.

 

But then it  _ doesn’t _ . Because this isn’t  _ his _ Youngbae. This is  _ Taekwon _ . This is what would have happened to them had they  _ really _ gotten what they wanted when they were just starting out. This is GDYB; and it’s  _ awful _ .

 

“What?” He snaps, his fingers bouncing against his leg and the edge of the table. Youngbae’s voice is almost the same, but their interactions are different. Youngbae never learned how to sing in this world. There would be no  _ Wedding Dress _ . There had been no  _ forever hair _ , and there would be no talk of them being soulmates.

 

Not now, not ever.

 

“You keep trying to get me to sing.” He says, and it’s still soft and kind but it isn’t  _ the same _ .

 

Jiyong sighs, dragging a hand down his face. There were no rings on his hands, another difference between  _ reality _ and this horrible place: he wasn’t a break out in fashion. GDYB were popular, though. They were big names, and he still enjoyed a similar fame as he had in  _ reality _ .

 

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, and Youngbae lets out a sigh as well. “I know you  _ can _ sing, though. Could you give it a try anyway?” He asks, his fingers back to tapping. 

 

Youngbae bites his lip, his eyes trained on Jiyong’s face as though he feels like there is something more to what Jiyong is feeling, but he can’t figure it out.  _ He’d never figure it out _ . Because they weren’t the same. They relied on each other, but Jiyong couldn’t figure out what it was that made their friendship stick where it had instead of progressing like it had in  _ reality _ .

 

Jiyong shakes his head and takes in a deep breath. He knew that he acted differently from the Jiyong that this Youngbae was used to, but even after all these months, he still couldn’t quite break the habit.

 

“Do you really think I  _ can _ ?” Youngbae asks, and Jiyong gives him a haughty look, the one he’d seen in all of the pictures and videos of GDYB when he was trying to figure everything out. 

 

“Of course. Now go try.” He says, and Youngbae responds to that with far more urgency than  _ his _ Youngbae would.

 

When they were alone like this, in the studio (the completely  _ wrong _ studio), there were no hushed conversations about their futures. There was barely any laughter and their banter was strained. They couldn’t be alone together for more than an hour without  _ something _ coming between them and Youngbae needing to get away. They were  _ friendly _ .

 

They treated each other like friends who’d spent time together when they were younger, but then sort of drifted apart over the years. It gave them a nice working relationship, Jiyong noted, his eyes scanning the awards on the walls. But it hadn’t given them the same type of happiness they enjoyed in  _ reality _ .

 

Youngbae tries to sing the first verse of  _ Stay With Me _ , which Jiyong  _ knows _ is cheating, and is also setting him up for failure, but he’s so homesick he can barely stand to  _ look _ at this Youngbae, let alone write  _ raps _ for him. He fails on the first run through, and looks crestfallen but also a little angry, Jiyong wonders if maybe his need to be perfect will kick in, or if he’ll run.

 

“Give me another one.” He says, and Jiyong blinks for a couple of seconds, before rifling through his papers and pulling out an older  _ BigBang _ song that was heavily Youngbae, and passing it along to him in the booth. He loads up the track and lets it play on repeat for a while as Youngbae tries to get the hang of singing. He figures it out around the fourth try, but his voice is too raspy to really fit the song.

 

Jiyong keeps it anyway and calls him back. “You’ll have to work on it.” He says, his eyes down on the notebook in front of him.

 

Youngbae is silent for a while, silent enough that Jiyong almost forgets he’s there, but then… “You’re different, Jiyong. What’s changed?”

 

_ Everything _ . The question hits him hard, and he blinks back tears that he’s probably been holding in for the last week or so. He’d gotten tired of crying himself to sleep at night, and had instead taken to holding it in as much as he could.  _ Everything is different and it’s  _ awful.

 

“Nothing, Bae, it’s fine.” He murmurs, his voice threatening to crack if he raises his voice.

 

Youngbae chuckles. “‘Bae’, you haven’t called me that in  _ years _ .” He muses, and Jiyong bites his lip to try and hold in the tears. “Well, if you’re sure nothing’s wrong, I’m going to head out.” 

 

Jiyong nods, and Youngbae drops an uncertain hand onto his shoulder before exiting the studio. He was going to  _ head out _ . Jiyong starts crying in earnest now, and he drops his head to the table in front of him, his arms holding it up. Not to the gym, not to go to dance practice, just  _ out _ . 

 

He’s mad, suddenly, that Youngbae is  _ heading out _ after casually remarking that Jiyong seemed  _ different.  _ He’s mad because  _ his Youngbae _ would have needled him and poked him and cajoled him until he told him what was wrong. Would have left and come back with hot tea and food and force-fed him until everything was better.

 

_ But this isn’t his Youngbae _ , and he doesn’t know how, or why, or what to do about it.

 

He falls off stage at the next concert. 

 

It’s not really a big fall, but he’s still not used to the choreography and his body still feels strange and new and different. He trips over the edge, and the dancers run to him before Youngbae does and it hurts to much more than the fall had.

 

He trips down the stairs in the Entertainment building because they’re on the wrong side and they’re too narrow and his shoes are too big. He wakes up at home with a message on his phone from Youngbae saying that he needs to eat more; he’s being selfish and drawing too much attention to himself going on like this.

 

Jiyong stares at the message for 3 hours before he’s worked up enough anger to respond.

_ Say that to my face. _

 

__ __ __ __ _ Do you want me to come over? _

__

__ _ Come over _

__ _ And say that _

__ _ To my _

__ _ Face _

 

Youngbae  _ does _ come over. He stands at the door waiting to be buzzed in because Jiyong had never told him the passcode, and when he’s let in he toes off his shoes before finding Jiyong in the living room.

 

Jiyong yells at him for 35 minutes. 

 

He cries, and screams, and clenches his fists. He throws a vase at the wall, and growls so viciously at one point that Youngbae (in the act of getting up to move away) cowers back down into his place on the couch. He tells Youngbae everything. 

 

When he’s done screaming and it’s just silent tears running down his red, blotchy face, he spends 23 minutes explaining in low tones how lost he is and how alone he feels and how little he really understands. Youngbae nods, uncertain and confused and clearly uncomfortable. Jiyong feels himself getting angry again because  _ his Youngbae _ would have reached over to pull him into a hug, and  _ God _ this is the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

 

“I’d give anything to go back.” He mutters miserably, his head in his hands. Youngbae lets out a calming breath from the other end of the couch, and then gets up to position himself in front of Jiyong.

 

“I...I can’t help you, Jiyong.” He whispers, his voice close and as comforting as  _ this Youngbae _ can manage. “But,  _ God _ do I wish I could.” 

 

It’s almost enough.

 

He’s been there a year, when he goes to bed after a wild concert and after party completely  _ wasted _ , and wakes up the next morning to banging on the front door. He wakes up slowly, his eyes heavy and his head pounding along with the fists on his door. His phone is ringing, and it takes him a moment, but his mind slowly puts together the sound he’s hearing and he grabs for his phone. It’s bigger than he remembers it being recently, but he can barely see and is barely awake as he presses it to his ear.

 

“What?” He asks groggily, and there’s a loud sigh of relief on the other end. 

 

“Oh my  _ God _ Ji! Where have you  _ been? _ ” It’s Youngbae, but it’s weird because Youngbae knows  _ exactly _ where he’s been because they were there together just the night before.

 

“Don’t be stupid.” He says grumpily, rolling over and considering hanging up.

 

“Ring me in  _ right now _ .” Youngbae practically  _ growls _ into the phone, and Jiyong bristles enough to sit up and blink open his eyes more completely.

 

“Why?” He asks, petulant and contrary, exactly the way he’d been forced to act around the man for the last year. 

 

There’s a spluttered and indignant laugh on the other side of the phone. “Why? Ji, you’ve been missing for  _ weeks _ , and when I finally get back here, you’ve changed the passcode to your apartment so I can’t even get in!”

 

_ Missing? _ Jiyong trips over himself getting out of his bed. His eyes land on absolutely anything they can inside his room, and they widen in shock and building excitement:  _ This was his room _ .

 

This was his apartment. He drops his phone and tears off down the hallway, skidding to a halt in front of the door. His heart is hammering against his chest and he’s eyeing the door with some trepidation. He’d almost forgotten what his  _ real _ apartment looked like, stuck for so long in that  _ other  _ place. He pulls the door open once he’s caught his breath just a little bit, and his eyes land on Youngbae whose back had been pressed against the door and who is now scrambling up to move into the apartment properly.

 

Jiyong opens his mouth to say something, but the words don’t work. This is  _ his Youngbae _ : his hair is a floppy, fluffy mess and he’s got a little bit of scruff on his chin and above his upper lip. He’s pale as a sheet and he looks  _ tired _ . But it’s  _ his _ Youngbae.

 

Youngbae is only still for a moment, his eyes scanning Jiyong hurriedly before he grabs him and pulls him forcefully into a hug. “Never do that to me  _ again _ .” He murmurs fiercely, one hand up against the back of Jiyong’s head, and the other holding them tightly together. “How could you do that to me? To  _ us _ ?” He pulls back and looks Jiyong in the eyes. Hurt clearly shining within them.

 

Jiyong opens his mouth to say something, but he’s so happy that all he can do is start to cry. Youngbae  _ shushes _ him and pushes him backward until they’re out of the entryway and he can steer him into the living room and down into the couch. He kneels down in front of him and grabs onto his hands.

 

“Alright, tell me.” He says. 

 

Jiyong wants to hold his hand up to his mouth to cover his sobs, but Youngbae’s holding his hands too tightly, so he has to face him through his tears. It’s comforting, a little, but he can’t help but want to hold onto his pain. “How long have I been gone?” He asks softly once the sobs have died down and he’s capable of speaking.

 

“A week or two.” He says softly, his thumbs rubbing softly over Jiyong’s hands. “No one found it weird until the end of the first week, but then they couldn’t get in touch with you and I was still in the US…”

 

Jiyong chokes back an incredulous laugh. “And they didn’t check my apartment?” He asks, even though he’d certainly not been there as he’d been  _ languishing  _ in his own personal hell. Youngbae’s eyes crinkle up in amusement, but there’s pain there.

 

“You weren’t here.” He says softly, he’s clearly worried now. “You don’t remember? You weren’t here. They came in and checked, and you were gone. I’ve been coming here since I got back, and this morning the passcode had changed and I couldn’t get in.” There are tears running down Youngbae’s face and Jiyong slides forward and off the couch, shaking his hands out of Youngbae’s so he can wrap his arms around him.

 

“God, Bae.” He mutters that evening. They’re curled together on the floor of the living room. He’d spend a good long time crying and trying to explain what he’d been through (‘ _ A year? Ji… _ ). Youngbae couldn't explain it (or even really believe it), but he’d listened to every word, and allowed Jiyong the respite of not having to go to the hospital  _ that day _ . ( _ “I don’t believe it, there’s not a path we could have taken that wouldn’t have ended with us being at least this close.” _ )

 

“Ji?” He responds, his eyes closed and his hands playing with Jiyong’s hair.

 

“I love you so much.” He says, and holds his breath as he waits for Youngbae’s response.

 

Youngbae stills under his head, his fingers pausing in their stroking of his hair, and then he’s pulling Jiyong up so their faces are mere centimeters apart. “I love you, too.” He whispers, before pressing his lips gently to Jiyong’s.

 

Jiyong could cry. He would have, too, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d cried so much that day that there wasn’t a single tear drop left within him. He presses into Youngbae and kisses him harder.

 

_ He was back, he was back and he was with  _ his _ Youngbae. _


End file.
